Big Sky Romance Collection

by Denise Hunter

  But now she was all set. Sweat trickled down her temple. She put her window down, hoping for a cool breeze. Hank’s property was a large spread to the south. He had three hired men, and she prayed one of them would be on hand to help.

  A few minutes later she was backing her trailer to the gate of Hank’s stock paneled pen. Her Hereford ran loose. She recognized his markings—this hadn’t been his first foray across her property line in search of a hot cow.

  She got out of the truck, unloaded Brandy, and, ditching her crutches, carefully mounted. She prayed the bull would cooperate.

  “Howdy, Shay.” Manny approached on foot.

  “Manny . . . you working for Hank now?”

  He gave a boyish grin. “Hired me last week.”

  “That’s just great. Congratulations.” She was relieved he’d found another job, one that surely paid better.

  “Yeah, he’s really growing the place. I guess he’s expanding even more next spring.”

  “You don’t say.” Shay wondered if this was her chance for some extra income after Travis left. Olivia was getting old enough to stay home alone. “Think he’d take on any part-time help?”

  Manny shrugged. “Looking for more work?”

  “Might come in handy next year. Not sure Hank would hire me, though.”

  “I’ll put in a good word for you.”

  “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.” She gestured to the Hereford. “I came for my bull. Again.”

  “You should’ve called. I’d have brought him over.”

  “Don’t think your boss would’ve been too keen on that.”

  With Manny’s help, the loading went smoothly. Manny offered to follow her to her ranch, but she didn’t want to get him in hot water with Hank.

  She was still breathing hard as she drove home. She’d gone to seed after only a couple idle weeks. Ranching would be harder than ever when she did get her mobility back.

  But her protesting foot told her it was too soon for that. The pain she’d had on the dismount almost made her leg buckle. She turned into her drive, relieved the loading was done. The bull shouldn’t put up too big a fuss about coming out. She’d unhitch the trailer, unsaddle her horse, then take the pain meds she’d forgotten this morning.

  After backing up to the pen, she shuffled to the gate, sprang it open, then released the trailer gate.

  Brandy came out easily, and she led the mare to a nearby stall to wait until she had the bull put safely away. It was hotter’n the dickens already, the sun beating down, not a cloud in sight. Shay hobbled gingerly toward the trailer. Someone needed to make crutches that didn’t kill the underarms.

  Inside the trailer, the bull was still motionless. “Ha!” she yelled as she approached the slatted front. She banged her crutch on the trailer’s corner, making a clanging sound that apparently didn’t impress him.

  Her shirt clung to her damp back, and her breaths came hard. “Come on, buddy, move it.” She poked her crutch through the slats and nudged. “Ha!”

  The bull took two steps back, and Shay lost her balance. She hobbled forward on the one crutch, felt herself twisting. She released the crutch, catching herself as her knee hit the ground.

  Shay bit back words she forbade Olivia to say. She braced her weight against the trailer and pushed upright. Her one crutch hung uselessly in her hand. Stupid thing! She threw it, and it hit the ground half a dozen feet away, releasing a puff of dirt.

  She pulled herself up, bracing her weight on her good foot. Now her crutch was inside, and the bull still hadn’t budged. “Ha!” She banged the side of the trailer with her open palm.

  Stupid, cantankerous creature! She limped toward the back of the trailer, biting the inside of her mouth at the pain.

  Travis nudged Buck to a canter, but even the horse was reluctant to move in the heat. He’d finally managed to push the herd up into the hills so as not to overgraze the streams. He pulled off his hat and ran his forearm over his forehead. It had to be topping ninety already.

  He decided to return to the house for grub. Get out of the heat and check on Shay, since Olivia was gone. ’Sides, she’d been acting funny since yesterday. Distant and cranky. She claimed she was fine, but she wasn’t. What had happened since their fishing outing?

  All he could figure was he’d overstepped with Beau on Sunday. She hadn’t seemed sore at the time, but what else could it be? Two steps forward, three steps back. At this rate, he’d be back in Texas before he could say annulment.

  He hoped to start mending fences with a shared meal. He planned to heat up the leftover fish and make sandwiches, maybe a side of beans. He was mentally reviewing the pantry when the barn came into view, and with it, the truck and trailer, and Shay.

  Shay was banging on the side panel, yelling. One of her crutches lay in the dirt a few feet away. A bull was halfway out of the trailer.

  She limped unaided around the trailer, a grimace pinching her face. Was the woman trying to kill herself?

  He pulled to a halt when he reached the trailer, dismounting. “What the heck are you doing, woman?”

  “Unloading a bull, what’s it look like?” A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. Her face strained against the pain of weight on her foot.

  “Get off your foot, Shay,” he said over the clanging of the bull’s hooves.

  She faltered as her leg buckled.

  He took her arm. “I’ll finish here. You’re gonna wreck your foot for good.”

  She shook him off. “Mind your own business.”

  He ran his hand over his jaw. “You are my business.”

  “Ha!” she yelled at the bull, slapping his rump. When he didn’t budge, she turned and limped toward the crutch, her face set.

  Stubborn woman.

  “I mean it, Shay.”

  “Go away, McCoy.”

  She’d be on those crutches for keeps if she didn’t stop. Or if he didn’t stop her. He followed, arriving as she bent to fetch the crutch. Without thought, he swooped down and caught her hip on his shoulder.

  “Put me down!”

  He held her legs tight to his chest, careful of her splinted foot. More careful than she was. He started for the house.

  She swatted at him. “Put. Me. Down!”

  Like a wet cat.

  “Put your claws away, woman.”

  “I have to unsaddle my horse!” Whack.

  “I’ll handle it.”

  She grabbed the back of his thigh and pinched. Hard. That would leave a mark. He gritted his teeth.

  When the pinch failed to work, she returned to swatting anything in reach.

  “Insufferable . . .” Whack.

  “Egotistical . . .” Whack.

  “Pigheaded . . .” Whack.

  “Bully!” The last swat landed on his backside.

  “Feeling good, darlin’.”

  She stopped abruptly, let out an angry roar. He opened the door and eased her through, kicking the door with his heel. When he reached the couch, he lowered his ungrateful load.

  She came upright on the sofa, gave his shoulders a good, hard shove. “Jerk!” Blood had rushed to her head, flushing her cheeks. Or maybe it was anger. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

  Leaving her to simmer, he retrieved her pills and a glass of water. What was he supposed to do when she was so reckless? Just stand around while she mangled her foot? She’d be lucky if she hadn’t made it worse.

  When he returned, Shay jerked the glass from him, sloshing water on the sofa. While she downed the pills, he fetched an ice bag from the freezer.

  He returned and dropped the bag in her lap. “Prop your foot and ice it. I’ll be back.”

  She glared, her eyes glossy, her breathing labored. “I can hardly wait.”

  Travis went outside and unloaded the bull. The Hereford didn’t seem so stubborn after dealing with Shay. Travis didn’t have to throw it over his shoulder or tiptoe around its pride. When the bull was penned, Travis latched the gate, then unsaddled Buck and Brandy.<
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  Why hadn’t she just called? He’d have been happy to retrieve the bull. He wondered how she’d even hitched the trailer. Probably took her ten times as long as it should’ve.

  His stomach rumbled as he closed the stall door. He headed toward the house, grabbing Shay’s crutches and her hat that had fallen when he’d tossed her over his shoulder. Hopefully she’d cooled her heels, but knowing Shay, she was in there stewing. She’d been on the verge of tears when he left. He’d thought they were angry tears, but now he wondered if she’d been hurting.

  He entered through the front, letting the screen door fall in place behind him. Shay was lying on the sofa, tucked into the space between the seat and back. Her splinted foot rested on the sofa’s arm, the bag of ice balanced precariously on top. Her chest rose and fell with deep, peaceful breaths. Her face was relaxed in sleep, her lips slightly parted. Long dark lashes fanned the tops of her cheeks.

  Seeing her now, all soft and vulnerable, he could hardly believe she was the same she-cat he’d just hauled into the house. She looked gentle as a lamb, harmless as a dove.

  His heart stirred with a yearning desire. Desire to protect her, desire to hold her and love her. Please, God, someday. I know I’ll have to earn her trust. I’ll be as patient as I need to be, only please let her know how much I love her.

  Judging by today, he had miles to go. He eyed the sliver of space on the edge of the sofa. He longed to stretch out beside her, curl her body into his, and hold her against him for the rest of the afternoon. His arms ached with the longing. He was her husband, and she was his wife. They were married.

  Yet he had no right. He had no doubt she’d set him straight on that if he tried.

  He sighed, too loud. She moved in her sleep, crossing her arms against the air-conditioned room. Travis grabbed the blanket that was draped over his guitar case and set it carefully over her, drawing it to her shoulders.

  Her hand peeked out from the top, and his eyes caught on the flimsy gold wedding band. He wanted to wrestle the ring from her finger. Every time he saw it, he thought about her marriage to Garrett. She was married to him now.

  He wondered what her relationship with her husband had been like. Wondered how the man could’ve left so much behind . . . a beautiful wife and daughter. Shay must’ve been devastated. Was likely leery of men in general, and Travis wasn’t exactly faultless in that.

  But he wasn’t fool enough to make that mistake twice. He wanted so much more than five months’ room and board. He wanted to help her heal, to fix all the broken parts.

  Show me how to love her, God. Give me patience.

  Travis watched her slumber, remembering the fight she’d given him just minutes before, and knew he might have to reach real deep for enough patience to win Shay’s heart.

  22

  The next Saturday Shay and Olivia accompanied Travis into town for supplies.

  When they reached town, Olivia saw a schoolmate headed into the Tin Roof. Travis gave her money for a milk shake, and she scampered off to the diner. Travis needed some things from Timberline Hardware, so Shay went to visit with Miss Lucy at the Doll House. The store was busy with tourists popping in every few minutes, but she was glad to see business going well for her elderly friend.

  After leaving the shop, Shay stopped at Mocha Moose and chewed the fat with Tina and a few other neighbors. The smell of brewed coffee tickled her senses, and the loud espresso machine whirred to life every few seconds as tourists and locals placed orders.

  Figuring Travis must be about finished, Shay made her way out the door and onto the boarded walk. She began to realize how foolish she’d been to order a to-go cup as she tried to juggle the crutches and the coffee. Thank God the truck was close. The coffee sloshed through the lid, and she felt the hot liquid through her jeans.

  “Howdy, Shay.” Beau stepped out of the Hair Barn, replacing his hat. “Let me get that for you.”

  She was wary after their run-in at church, but her armpit was killing her, and she was going to lose half her coffee getting to the truck.

  “Thanks.” She handed over the cup. “Don’t know what I was thinking, getting coffee. I’m headed that way.” She nodded her chin toward the truck, parked diagonally in front of the hardware store.

  “Glad I ran into you,” he said. “I owe you an apology for Sunday.” Sincerity shone in his brown eyes, and the chagrined smile he wore reminded her why she liked him.

  “That’s all right—this was sudden. I can see why you’re confused.”

  They’d reached the truck, and he passed her to get the passenger door.

  “Well, anyhow, I do wish you the best, you know. You’re a great gal. McCoy’s a lucky man.”

  As she navigated the curb, Shay’s crutch caught on something. She’d already begun her swing forward, and her weight was on a crutch that had found no hold. Her arms buckled.

  “Shay!” Beau reached out, but not in time to stop her fall.

  She landed awkwardly on her rear end between the vehicles.

  A dazed second later she felt the damage. Her backside would have a heck of a bruise, but her foot wasn’t banged up. There was no pain radiating up her leg. She pulled her palms off the ground to dust away the bits of gravel and opened her mouth to assure Beau she was fine.

  But just then a body flew past. A rush of air smacked her face as Travis grabbed Beau by the shirt and shoved him into the side of the truck. The coffee went flying.

  “What’d you do, Meyers?” Travis slacked his hold long enough to allow another shove into the cab. “What’s wrong, can’t take on a man? Get your thrills outta—”

  “Stop, Travis!” Shay tried to stand but couldn’t find a hold.

  Beau pushed back, to no avail. “Get your hands off me, McCoy!”

  “It was an accident.” She grabbed the fender and pulled to her feet. “I fell, that’s all.”

  Travis glanced at her. She could see the wheels turning. His face was as hard as stone, his lips pressed into a taut line.

  “I tripped over the wheel stop.” She gestured toward the block, hobbling on one foot. “Beau was helping me to the truck, carrying my coffee.” The empty cup rolled in the wind toward the street. “Which is gone now, thanks to you.”

  Travis’s hands were still clenched around a wad of Beau’s shirt, his knuckles gone white.

  “Get off me.” Beau shoved Travis away, his nostrils flaring.

  Travis loosened his grip and his hands dropped to his sides. His shoulders heaved, his jaw twitched.

  Men. Shay would’ve whacked him over the head with her crutch, except it was out of reach.

  Beau straightened his shirt. “You need to simmer down, pal.”

  Travis retrieved Shay’s crutches and handed them over. “You okay?”

  She snatched the crutches, glaring at him as Beau went to fetch the empty cup.

  “You owe him an apology.”

  Travis glanced at Beau, who’d collected the cup and was now retrieving his hat from the pavement. Then he looked back at her, his jaw picking up slack.

  She frowned at him, but he’d noticed the crowd of tourists gathered on the sidewalk.

  “Show’s over.” He waved them away. “Go on . . . scat.”

  They began dispersing as Beau approached, donning his hat. He looked at Shay. “Sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She shot Travis a look, then returned her attention to Beau. “Thank you for your help.”

  He tipped his hat, gave Travis a look that said plenty, and turned toward his own vehicle. He dropped the empty cup in a trash barrel as he passed.

  Shay jabbed Travis in the ribs.

  He pressed his lips together like he was swallowing a sour worm. “Meyers,” he finally called.

  Beau turned, shoulders back, wearing a scowl.

  Shay thought she was going to have to jab Travis again before he spoke. “Sorry for the misunderstanding.”

  Beau sized him up for a full five seconds, then he nodded once and co
ntinued on his way.

  When Travis recovered from his distasteful task, he took Shay’s arm.

  She elbowed him away. “I can do it myself.” She was beginning to remember why she’d sworn off men to begin with.

  23

  July galloped into August, arriving hotter and drier than the previous month. From the windows, Shay watched the grass fade from dewy green to brittle brown. The school bus arrived early one August morning to usher Olivia off to her first day of seventh grade.

  Each week on their way to church, Shay noted the streams getting lower until soon they were dried gullies, winding through meadows like gray-brown snakes, the dirt cracking and splintering under the brutal sun.

  Travis drove the cattle into the hills and cut the bulls from the cows—a hot, tiring job, the bulls fighting amongst themselves like a bunch of high school boys. He found and treated two cases of pneumonia, and both cows were now on the mend.

  Shay hated to admit it, but he managed the ranch well in her absence.

  Abigail drove her to the clinic at the six-week mark. Shay fairly itched with the desire to be back in the saddle. But instead, Dr. Garvin prescribed another week on crutches.

  She stuffed her disappointment and took her medicine with a minimal amount of grumbling. After all, she’d asked for it. She’d expected Travis to point that out, had almost dared him to when she told him the news at supper that night. But maybe he was smarter than she gave him credit for. He’d assured her he and Olivia could handle things until she was back on her feet.

  Olivia seconded the thought enthusiastically, and Shay didn’t miss the chummy look that passed between the two of them. They’d developed a camaraderie, working together. Sometimes she caught Travis ruffling Olivia’s hair or patiently answering her questions, and she wondered if they were growing too close.

  One night Shay heard the quiet murmur of his voice, punctuated by Olivia’s giggles. She shuffled across the living room and listened around the corner.

  He was reading aloud to her, imitating each character’s voice. Shay listened to his falsetto, a grin tugging her lips at the incongruity of a cowboy reading The Princess Diaries.